Juan, Rita, ‘08 Maroon Honda Civic

Juan held onto Rita’s hand, firmly, till their knuckles whitened with the intensity of their grip.  To Juan, the end was always bright, shining, the beginning of something new.  He always kept a smile on his face no matter what the situation, even if, deep inside, he felt the deepest of pains.  He was taught by his father that showing too much emotion, would make him weak.  He regretted being such a typical man sometimes that he felt the urge to cry, in public. Just to make him feel human, just to debunk his fathers’ teachings, whom he stopped loving at the age of eighteen anyways.

Rita was Juan’s opposite, and often times she felt, his superior.  She had no qualms with showing emotion, telling Juan exactly how she felt, the why, the howcome, the hitherto.  It was logical to Rita, to always understand how the other person was feeling.  And if the lines of communication were kept open, then the future would be a safer bet.  Rita always thought in this manner, she believed it was very romantic of her.

With her free hand, Rita gripped the steering wheel of her car.  Her eyes were red and puffy from crying; her mouth was cracked and dry from cursing.

Juan maintained his smile.

“You have to know that I will always love you, that will never change.” Juan spoke softly, with confidence he was getting from who knows where.

“Is that what people say right before they leave?” Rita retorted, with a sharp, bitter tounge.  Not necessarily at Juan, but at the situation.

“I have to, you know this. Please.” Juan, still soft, almost begging.

“I know, I know all of it. I know every stupid detail of why. We’ve gone through it all a hundred times, and everything makes sense. I understand that.” Rita took in a slow breath. “It still drives me crazy.”

“You know, tomorrow, you will have forgotten all about me.” Juan stated with a smile, but slowly his eyes started to water.  It was that time again.  Juan had suddenly realized what he was giving up, and what he had been storing away.  He bit his lip, forcing his tears away.

“If you’re going to cry, you should just cry. At least, then, maybe I’ll believe you.”  Rita stayed rigid in her tone. “Tomorrow, when I wake up, I will probably realize you’re not there next to me, and cry uncontrollably, like you’re not doing right now. And then, you know what? That’ll be that. Because I will remember that you told me we’d be together forever, and now you’re breaking that promise. So, fuck you. Maybe I will forget all about you.”

Juan squeezed Rita’s hand, she squeezed back.  Together they were an amalgamation of their own logic, and rules of how to show emotion, love.  They were never truly understood by anyone else, and so understood each other the best.  What more could one ask for?  Juan and Rita both thought to themselves, even if the end was inevitable.

~ by vicky_luu on October 28, 2008.